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Captain Tennant exercised superb seamanship as
he successfully evaded countless waves of torpedo attacks. His tremendous
skill is still etched in the memory of able seaman Ted Matthews: "Our
skipper had us falling everywhere in his attempts to comb the incoming
torpedoes; he maneuvered this 32,000-ton warship more like a destroyer
than a battle cruiser. In our elevated position on the high angle aircraft
director the roll of the ship was alarming, if it hadn't been for the
life-threatening situation, it could almost have been exhilarating."
The tenacity of the Japanese was rewarded when
a tremendous explosion rocked Repulse on the port side, amidships.
Thankfully she appeared to shrug off this attack and her gun crews repaid
the enemy, felling a couple of bombers. Within seconds a further strike
met with success; this time on the starboard side just aft of the cutter
(rowing boat). Repulse still managed to operate effectively and
moved towards the stricken Prince of Wales to offer assistance.
Any hopes harbored of escaping this onslaught
were quickly dampened. Captain Tennant had already combed the tracks of 19
torpedoes, when the killer blow was dealt. Three planes approached from
the direction of the Prince of Wales, waiting until the very last
moment before dispatching their warheads. Repulse was unable to
maneuver her way clear of this triple attack. The three "fish"
disappeared under the ship; suddenly a gigantic plume of water erupted
from the port side, immediately followed by a sudden and dramatic list to
port. The fight was over. Repulse was lost. Within three minutes
the battle cruiser would settle on the ocean bed, along with 513 of her
complement.
It was now the turn of Prince of Wales to be
dealt a coup de grace. By this point in the battle, conditions on
board were desperate. Since the initial torpedo strike the Prince
had been damaged by another attack. Her list was increasing by the minute
and it was obvious that she could not survive.
On board that day was 18-year-old ordinary
telegraphist Bill Johns. As with many of her crew, the memories of an
earlier battle in May 1941 was still uppermost in his thoughts. This was
when the newly commissioned (though not fully prepared) battleship had
been with the ill-fated HMS Hood. He said: "Being under cover
I wasn't too sure what was happening until water began to enter our
communications office in the depths of the ship. Almost immediately we
received orders to evacuate the room and make our way to the upper deck.
After a lengthy climb we came into daylight; it was a scene of total
devastation. I was put under the direct control of a chief stoker; we had
to help carry the wounded to the sick bay… most of the men we took down
below perished with the ship, their injuries were so severe they were
unable to save themselves before it was too late."
After numerous torpedo hits, Prince of
Wales was in a dire situation; it was estimated she had taken on board
an unbelievable 18,000 tonnes of water. In a short while she, also, would
succumb to the inevitable. This final blow came in the form of a high
level bombing attack. Alan McIvor, a sight setter on a port 5.25 gun
turret, has vivid recollections of the last moments of the Prince:
"I was standing at the open entrance to our turret; suddenly there
were three tremendous explosions in between our funnels, which threw me
back inside. I soon realized that I'd been very lucky, for such was the
force of the detonations they lifted our gun turret off its trunion, if I
hadn't been sheltered from the main blast, I wouldn't be here today."
McIvor's head had been badly cut in the
incident and he was losing a lot of blood. Petty Officer Crowther made him
cross over the gangplank to the relative safety of HMS Express,
which was lying alongside his stricken ship. It was the last he ever saw
of him: "I've no idea if he survived the sinking," he said.
At 13.20 hours Prince of Wales lurched
to port, capsized and sank, taking 327 men with her. A desperate rescue
operation swung into action. The escorting destroyers working miracles,
saved hundreds from a watery grave. In just over two hours of bitter
fighting, the pride of the British Navy had been destroyed by 94 Japanese
warplanes. More than 840 men perished, many more would die during the
coming battle for Singapore. Without question it was the greatest disaster
our navy suffered in the Second World War.
During my years of research covering the loss
of these ships, I have conferred with governments and individuals from all
over the world; one such person offered assistance far in excess of all
others. He is Colonel Maetani, of the Japanese Military Attaché in
London. I wrote to him, enquiring if they had any knowledge of the
whereabouts of survivors from the Kanoya and Mihoro squadrons that
destroyed Repulse and Prince of Wales, as I also wished to
cover the battle from their viewpoint. Several weeks later he replied with
the name and address of one such person, Lieut. Haruki Iki of the Kanoya
Air Corps.
After many letters I became increasingly
touched by the sincerity of Iki, and feel that one act carried out by him
is in total contrast to the normally ferocious attitude displayed by the
Japanese against their wartime adversaries. On December 11, 1941, he flew
solo over the sight of the previous day's battle, dropping two wreaths.
I asked what prompted this show of respect.
His reply shocked me. One was for the fellow members of his Kanoya Air
Corps who had perished at the hands of British gunfire and the other was
for all the British sailors who had died in the battle. He said their
display of bravery in defence of the ships had gained them the utmost
admiration from all the pilots in his squadron.
On May 22 this year, the Repulse and Prince
of Wales Survivors' Association will gather in Plymouth. Amid all the
joy and laughter, I guarantee that many a tear will be shed in memory of
their lost shipmates, whose final resting place is the South China Sea.
© This article appeared in the
May 1998 edition of Saga magazine ©
With kind permission of Saga
Magazine and the author of Sailors Tales, Alan Matthews
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